Rebel Fay

Chapter Twenty-One

Once Leesil had delivered the ancestors' message to Most Aged Father, they were all escorted back to quarters. Most Aged Father's claim had been dismissed, and thereby Magiere was cleared by council vote, but the elders remained to debate as they left. Leesil had no idea what would come next. The look on the old elf's face still lingered in his mind, but he felt no sympathy for the fear and festering pain he'd seen there. His mother was still imprisoned, and he'd had no chance to plead for, or demand, her freedom.

Magiere huddled on the dirt floor at the elm chamber's center, as far from the tree's inner walls as she could get. Wynn sat lost in thought upon one bed ledge with Chap sprawled at her feet. The day wore on in a lingering crawl as Leesil paced around with Magiere watching him.

She no longer visibly trembled, but her face was still weary and drawn. He finally fetched her some water, along with a few nuts and berries left for them. He reached out and stroked her black hair.

"Please," he insisted. "Try a little."

What relief he'd gained from the dismissal of Most Aged Father's claims wasn't enough. He had to get to his mother. He had to get Magiere out of this land and away from the elven forest.

The doorway curtain bulged aside, and Brot'an stepped in. He immediately settled on the floor with a long slow breath. He looked so openly distressed, it unnerved Leesil.

Leesil would never understand this man's ever-twisting motives, but Brot'an had stood up for Magiere when no one else would or could. Grudgingly, Leesil was grateful, though he'd never say so to Brot'an's face.

"What's wrong?" Leesil asked.

"I have failed," Brot'an said flatly.

"Most Aged Father lost, and Magiere is safe," Leesil said.

"Safe?" Brot'an shook his head. "They did not even suggest replacing him, after seeing him… hearing him. The elders gathered to question why he allowed you safe passage, but he told them his decision was an internal matter directly related to the safety of our people."

He paused, as if not believing his own words.

"Some are still troubled that he allowed humans into our land, but they will not consider that he is unfit. Age is too much a virtue among my people."

A low throaty chuckle escaped Brot'an's lips. It sounded wrong coming from such a man.

"You mean Most Aged Father?" Magiere asked.

"All of you will be forced to leave tomorrow," Brot'an continued, running a hand over his scarred face. "Be ready by first light. At least Glean-neohkan'thva had the foresight to speak up and gain you a barge downriver to Ghoivne Ajhajhe. From there, you will be given safe passage by sea-the first humans to step foot on one of our ships. You will not need to cross the mountains again."

Leesil crouched down. "What?"

Brot'an looked at him with a saddened expression. "The elders are resolved. The claim against Magiere may be dismissed, but your presence will no longer be tolerated."

Wynn came closer, settling near Magiere.

"We can't leave," Magiere said. "Leesil hasn't even spoken for Nein'a. If he's now recognized as one of you, he has a right to-"

The doorway curtain lifted again, and Sgaile peered inside. He looked harried and exhausted. Leesil's cloak was draped over his arm.

"Leshiarelaohk," he said. "Your property is-"

"Don't call me that," Leesil warned. "It's not my name."

Sgaile sighed. "Your property is restored. I have brought your gear and blades… and Magiere's sword and dagger."

"Come in," Leesil said a little less sharply.

He didn't care for how that name implied he was one of them, but Sgaile only followed custom in using it, the same as with all of his people. And

Leesil wanted to hear another view on what had happened at the council. Of anyone he'd met in this land, Sgaile was the most trustworthy.

Sgaile shook his head, his tangled white-blond hair swaying. "I cannot stay. Grandfather and Leanalham leave at dawn. There is much to do, but if you would, come tonight to the third oak upriver from the docks and say your farewell. Leanalham has been comforted in meeting you."

Leesil chose not to press for his views on the council. Sgaile clearly believed this entire matter was finished.

"Tell Leanalham that I'll try," Leesil lied.

Sgaile set the gear inside the door and was about to depart.

"Send Leanalham for naming," Leesil said. "If that's something she still wants. There's no reason to keep her from it anymore. She can reach hallowed ground, if I did."

Sgaile didn't reply and slipped out. Leesil picked up his blades and began strapping them on.

"What are you doing?" Brot'an asked.

"I'm going to have a talk with Most Aged Father." He tossed Magiere her falchion. "Care to join me?"

She caught the sword and stood up.

"No more brash foolishness!" Bro'tan said. "Anythreats, and you will be killed. I have been considering another tactic… though it may cause unpredictable changes for my caste."

"What tactic?" Wynn asked. "What more could you do?"

Brot'an's eyes shifted several times in indecision. "Remain here until I return."

"What are you up to now?" Leesil asked.

"I will speak with Most Aged Father myself. It should not take long."

Leesil locked eyes with Magiere, and she nodded at him.

"All right," he agreed.

Dusk settled as Brot'an'duive headed for the massive oak. He did not call out for permission to enter and descended the stairs. Before he could enter the central root chamber, Frethfare stepped out and grew angry at the sight of him.

"Father has not sent for you."

"Leave," he whispered, stepping straight at her.

Frethfare's eyes narrowed.

He did not try to push past her but stopped short, waiting before the chamber's doorway so that Most Aged Father could see him.

"I would speak with you alone," Brot'an'duive called. "Please send your Covarleasa away."

The ancient leader reclined limply in his cradle of living wood, still shrouded in the same wrap he had worn to the gathering. His eyes were half-closed in weariness, but they opened fully at the sight of Brot'an'duive.

"I have no interest in the demands of a traitor," Most Aged Father said. "I will deal with you soon enough."

"Send Frethfare out," Brot'an'duive repeated. "You will have interest in what I say… to you alone."

Most Aged Father stared at him long, then slightly raised one hand. "Leave us, daughter."

"Father-" Frethfare began in alarm.

"Go!"

Frethfare turned a warning eye upon Brot'an'duive before she stepped around him. Brot'an'duive waited until her soft footfalls faded upon the stairs, and then he stepped into the ancient patriarch's root chamber.

"What worthless excuses do you offer for your conduct?" Most Aged Fatherasked, his voice cracking.

"No matter this day's outcome, the elders were disturbed by your behavior and demeanor. I expected them to replace you."

"With you, perhaps?"

Brot'an'duive ignored the question. "The ground you stand upon crumbles. If the elders learn what you have us do in the human countries, how long before they do as I hoped?"

"Manipulation… and open challenge?" Most Aged Father displayed only mock astonishment before he chuckled softly. "No surprise in this. I have long suspected you, deceiver."

Brot'an'duive shook his head calmly. "I serve my people, as our caste was intended from long-forgotten times… as all Anmaglahk believe when they take oath of service. It is we, as well as our people, who are deceived by you. Yet we have kept faith, just the same. Turning humans upon each other serves no purpose but to salve your own fears. They are not this enemy you speak of so sparingly, whatever or whoever it might be."

Most Aged Father's hands went limp. "You had my trust, my love… how long have you been a traitor among your kind?"

"I have never been a traitor to my people, though I no longer believe in your ways. And neither is Cuirin'nen'a. The elders may turn a blind eye for what you do to her, because she is one of us. They see it as an issue of the An-maglahk. But I would now barter for her release."

"Barter?" Most Aged Father returned. "Why, when you will soon join her?"

Brot'an'duive's voice grew cold. "You will release her tonight. Or I will tell the elders how you use the Anmaglahk to set the humans on each other."

Most Aged Father's dried features stretched in mounting fury, and Brot'an'duive stepped closer.

"I will break my silence before the council," he said. "I will tell them all that I know of what you have done. As yet, you have nothing to hold against me. Release Cuirin'nen'a, swear to her safety… and I will swear my continued silence."

He watched Most Aged Father and waited.

The ancient elf would cling to power at any cost, even for just a little longer. Whatever he feared was coming would drive him to it. He would accept this bargain, and once Cuirin'nen'a wasfree, Leshil would leave this place and have no reason to return. If not safe, he would at least be beyond the old one's reach, until it was time for him to serve his purpose.

"I… accept your exchange," Most Aged Father croaked, his eyes stark with madness. "But this changes nothing. The loyal Anmaglahk will continue to serve our people."

"Is Cuirin'nen'a released?"

Most Aged Father finally closed his eyes and placed his withered fingers against the walls of his bower for a long moment.

"She is released, so go to her, if you wish. But send Sgailsheilleache and Frethfare to me at once."

Brot'an'duive turned away, his heart pounding.

They both knew the half-truth of all this. For now, it served Brot'an'duive's own ends and left him time to plan. Whether first he betrayed-or was betrayed-had yet to be seen.

But he was no traitor to his caste. He protected their future, for he still believed in the old one's fear of an enemy yet to show itself. He would do what he must to keep the Anmaglahk whole and sound.Until they were needed no more, when it all finally ended on the stroke of the blade in Leshil's… in Leshiarelaohk's hand.

"In silence and in shadows," Brot'an'duive whispered as he left.

Magiere tried to keep Leesil calm, but he kept pacing the elm's chamber, and she finally set to cleaning her falchion. It wasn't necessary, but handling the blade kept her from snapping, between the tension of lingering and the vibrant shivers within her.

Wynn sat on the floor, writing with her quill.

"What are you recording now?" Magiere asked.

"The end of the gathering.My guild will find it of interest in comparison to elven culture elsewhere."

"I'm glad I could offer them some diversion," Magiere sniped.

"Magiere, that is not what I-"

"Sorry… forget it."

In Magiere's mind, she kept pondering the silf's sudden appearance, and the idea that it or one of itskind had saved them from the blizzard. Why had it chosen to appear only before the council? How long had it been following her?

The chained translation of its belief that she was somehow of its blood still haunted her. She hoped it didn't know how she'd come by such mistaken heritage.

The doorway curtain folded aside, and Brot'an stepped in. He did not look tired, but he was panting lightly.

Leesil rushed at him. "What happened?"

"Your mother is free," Brot'an answered without warning. "But she does not know it herself, so we must go to her now. I will explain the delay of your departure later and arrange for another barge."

Magiere was dumbstruck, like Leesil, but Chap lunged to his feet.

"Brot'an…" Wynn began, with confusion in her eyes."How?"

Magiere wondered the same thing, but she slammed her falchion back into its sheath as Leesil snatched up his blades and strapped them on.

"I don't care how," he said.

Chap barked once in agreement and was out the door faster than the rest of them could follow.

In the root chamber beneath the vast oak, Frethfare scarcely believed what Most Aged Father told her.

"Released?" she repeated.

Sgailsheilleache stood silent beside her, his expression unreadable. She knew him better than he realized. Recent events had left him in turmoil. Today had been the worst in her life, defeat after defeat in humiliation.

"Yes, daughter," Most Aged Father said. "Cuirin'nen'a's time is served, and she is released."

"Why?"

Anger crept into his voice. "Do you question me?"

"No, Father," she answered quickly. "I only…"

Something was wrong. Brot'an'duive had demanded a private audience, and now a traitor was released among the people.

"Will that be all, Father?" Sgailsheilleache asked. "Do you require anything?"

Frethfare wondered at his calm acceptance, as if it were all part of a normal day. Sgailsheilleache rarely questioned anything, unless faced with the unforeseen. And this was certainly unforeseen.

Most Aged Father squinted at Sgailsheilleache, and his milky eyes grew soft."No, my son. Do not be troubled further. Go and rest. We all need rest.

Clearly, Most Aged Father placed no blame upon Sgailsheilleache for this day's outcome. And why should he? The blame lay with Brot'an'duive, and sooner or later, Frethfare would find the proof of it. A Greimasg'ah had betrayed his caste, and this could not be left unattended.

Sgailsheilleache turned and left, but Frethfare could not bring herself to go just yet.

"Father, pardon me, but what does this mean?Should I go to inform Cuirin'nen'a?"

He shook his ancient head. "Most likely, Brot'an'duive will go tonight and take Leshil with him."

The chamber seemed to grow dim around her as she tried to reason through Most Aged Father's words. Nothing made sense.

"Go now, daughter," he said.

She climbed the steps out of the earth, lost in her tumbling thoughts, and then ran outside, not stopping until she reached the elm where Leshil and his humans were kept. Before she reached the doorway, she knew the elm was empty. Still, she peered inside.

All were gone… gone to free Cuirin'nen'a.

Frethfare stood in uncertainty. Why had Most Aged Father called her in tonight to tell her this? He was exhausted, and if there was nothing for her to do, then why notleave the news until morning? Why such urgency followed by so little explanation?

She stared off through the trees as her turmoil mounted.

Father had tried to tell… to ask her something without putting it into words. For some reason, he could not give the order himself.

Her stomach churned at the thought of Leshil, his traitorous mother, and those humans escaping. Not after they had found a way into this land. Not after all the discord they had sown among her caste. And not after what they had done to Most Aged Father.

She had been at his side for long years… long decades.Whatever the reason that he could not ask her outright, she knew what he expected of her.

Frethfare ran toward the river and the docks.In the full of night, the trees blurred by. She fled to the sixth birch upstream and fell to her knees by its doorway, pulling back the cloth hanging.

En’nish sat alone inside on the floor. The cup of tea before her must have sat a long while, for it no longer steamed. She stared blankly ahead, and then turned her sharp face toward the doorway.

"Frethfare?" she said, taken back. "Are you well? What is wrong?"

"We go north immediately. Brot'an'duive takes Leshil and the humans to free Cuirin'nen'a. They must be stopped." She hesitated before adding, "This is the wish of Most Aged Father."

En’nish cinched her cloak's trailing corners across her waist, and then her sudden eagerness wavered.

"I do not understand, Covarleasa," she began, respectfully. "If the Greimasg'ah is with them, why are we sent behind him?"

"Brot'an'duive is a traitor. You heard and saw him today."

En’nish still hesitated.

Frethfare was not certain how to deal with Brot'an'duive, but she understood what must be done this night. A traitor escaped punishment, and humans would leave knowing the way for others to return to her people's land.

"We will not spill the blood… of our own," she said, firm and slow.

She let the words hang.

Longing hardened En’nish’s eyes as she understood Frethfare's meaning.

No, they would not spill the blood of their own, but the outsiders must be dealt with.

En’nish blinked slowly with a deep exhale, as if finally releasing long-harbored pain. She followed Frethfare out like one who finally saw the salve for her wounds within reach.

Chane struggled through the heavy snow. Wind pelted his face with large flakes that clung to his hair and cloak. He could only see a few paces ahead and followed the mute shapes of Welsteil and their one remaining horse.

"We must find shelter," Chane rasped. "We cannot locate the passage until this blizzard has passed."

"No," Welstiel answered. "We keep looking. It cannot be far."

The Mondyalitko had told them to seek a passage along a deep ravine. Once they passed through, they would be able to see the castle.

Only three nights past, Chane's wild dog familiar had found the way, though calling it a ravine was an understatement. It was a deep and jagged canyon impossible to climb down, and its bottom was filled with snow-blanketed rocky crags. After its discovery, Welstiel behaved like an obsessed madman, driving them hard up through the mountains.

Chane halted. Going on was useless if they could not see. He was about to insist they pitch the tent when a long howl and yammering barks carried on the wind from somewhere ahead.

"The dog!" Welstiel shouted over the wind.

Chane was in no mood for Welstiel's premature elation. "Wait!"

He dropped to sit in the cold snow and closed his eyes, reaching out for his familiar's thoughts. When he found his way into its limited mind, he saw through the dog's eyes.

At first, his sight was obscured by snow slanting through the dark as the dog scrambled forward. Then the animal halted at the edge of a precipice. Chane looked down through its eyes into a gorge at the canyon's top end, and vertigo overwhelmed him. The dog stood on a flat rock overhang, digging through loose snow.

"What has it found?" Welstiel asked desperately.

"I do not know… something." He opened his eyes reluctantly and stood up."Upward… ahead."

Chane took the lead, holding the dog's thoughts to sense the way. When he spotted the animal's tracks already fading under the blizzard, he released the connection and picked up his pace. Ahead he thought he saw where the canyon's upper end spiked downward into the rocky range. Upon its near side, something dug wildly in the snow.

Chane trudged quickly up and dropped beside the dog. He looked down with his own eyes to where the canyon opened into a deep gorge too wide to see its far side. He began digging by hand, clearing snow from the ledge until he exposed a piece of flat slate that did not match the ledge's basalt stone. The piece was half the length of his body and smoothly fitted to the ledge's edge-except for a hole to one side just large enough for a hand. Chane cleared the opening with his fingers and lifted the slate panel.

Welstiel hovered above him as they looked down.

Snow-covered ledges-wide steps-were carved into the gorge wall, though Chane could not be sure in the blizzard if they went all the way to the unseen bottom.

Welstiel examined the piece of slate. "This was intended to hide the pas-sage:

"I do not think so.More likely a marker to find it or perhaps shield the first steps from erosion. This path is used regularly by someone, for it took much work to carve it out, crude as it is. Let us hope it leads somewhere useful, though we will have to abandon the horse."

Welstiel stared into space. "The Mondyalitko said we would step out to see the castle. It has to be down there somewhere… it must be."

Between the darkness and the storm, Chane had no way of telling if this was true, and he was sick of blind optimism. "Do we try tonight or wait until we have more time tomorrow?"

"Now," Welstiel answered instantly, and pulled their packs from the horse. "Move on. We leave the dog as well."

Again, Chane had no voice in their decisions, and his anger seethed quietly. But he held his tongue. Perhaps they were close to Welstiel's coveted orb, and once they found it, Chane might give Welstiel a surprise or two of his own.

Chane braced a hand against the steep rock wall and took two steps downward, peering below. He saw nothing through the blizzard-noteven the gorge's bottom, nor its far side. Snowflakes slanting across the night seemed to materialize out of the dark. The lower he went, the more the wind lessened, until the snow drifted lazily downward.

Behind and above him, Chane heard Welstiel's boots scrape the steps.

Sgaile headed for the third oak upstream from the docks, eager to be with his family once more and away from all others. He pulled the doorway drape aside, and there sat his grandfather, Gleanneohkan'thva, upon an umber felt throw as he wrote with quill on parchment.

"Where is Leanalham?" Sgaile asked.

"She went to find a few things for our journey," his grandfather replied. "It will be an early start. Will you come with us?"

Sinking down, Sgaile untied his cloak and lifted the clay teapot from its tray.

"I must first see Leshil and his companions safely off, then I will come home for a while. I wish to bring Osha with me-with your consent. Except for his training, I am considering a request to be relieved of duties for the remainder of winter… perhaps longer."

His grandfather looked up, puzzled, but merely patted his shoulder." Osha is always welcome. And it would be good to have you home for a while."

Sgaile poured tea into one of the round cups and turned its warmth slowly between his palms.

Indeed, to have a little peace once again, even into the spring. Time to reflect on many things he had not been aware of before today. Strange animosity existed between Brot'an'duive and Most Aged Father-a revered Greimasg'ah and the founder of their caste.A rift that apparently had grown silently over time. Frethfare as well had some part in it, for her ardor in challenge had raised Sgaile's awareness in the worst of ways.

He sipped the tea slowly, but it brought him no comfort.

Leanalham fell through the door, breathing hard."Sgailsheilleache! Come-quickly!"

He set the cup down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. "What? Are you injured?"

"No…" She gasped in another deep breath. "Urhkarasiferin gave me dried figs for our journey, and in returning, I saw Frethfare outside En’nish’s quarters. They did not see me, but I heard part of what they said. They go north after Leshil and Brot'an'duive."

Sgaile sat back, whispering to himself. "Leshil has gone to tell Cuir-in'nen'a."

"Tell her what?" his grandfather asked.

Sgaile carne back to himself."Most Aged Father has released Cuirin'nen'a. She is forgiven. Leshil and his companions must have gone to tell her." He looked at Leanalham. "Brot'an'duive is with them, and Frethfare follows after?"

"Yes," she cried. "And En’nish. But I do not believe Brot'an'duive knows they follow."

Sgaile carefully set down his cup.

"They spoke of not spilling the blood… of their own." Leanalham's voice quavered. "But why would they need to? And something in Frethfares voice… she only mentioned Brot'an'duive-not Leshil or his companions! Why would she say this to En’nish?"

Sgaile stood up, rapidly tying the corners of his cloak. His first instinct was to go directly to Most Aged Father, but if Frethfare actedon her own, this would only cause more discord.

"I will find Leshil first," he said. "I will uncover what is happening."

"I am coming with you," Gleanneohkan'thva said.

"No, I must run."

"Are you suggesting that I cannot keep up? Your caste is at odds with itself. You need a clan elder, and I am the closest you have." He turned to Leanalham. "Do not leave our quarters, and do not tell anyone where we have gone. If asked, we have gone to gather supplies for the trip."

Leanalham nodded quickly."Hurry!"

Gleanneohkan'thva donned his cloak, not waiting for Sgaile's agreement.

"Stay behind me," he told his grandfather. Perhaps he would need the voice of an elder.

They left the oak, running along the river to the open forest, rather than through Crijheaiche.